The It Girl
by KyronP
Summary: Whatever happened to Jenny Humphrey when she left the Upper East Side ? Welcome to Waverly Prep, one of the most exclusive schools in the country. Jenny Humphrey just wants to stay beneath the radar and get through her senior year but you don't choose to have It: It chooses you. And Jenny definitely has the It Factor to be Waverly's new Queen Bee. Please R&R.
1. Chapter 1

**Volume One: **

**Chapter One**

"Oh, Jen. You look _darling_," moaned Alison Humphrey, Jenny Humphrey's mother. "So cute. Aren't you glad to be out of that stuffy uniform?"

Jenny wasn't glad, per se, because she kind of missed her life back in New York. But she knew that it was for the best that she had left Manhattan for Hudson: she was getting a fresh start. This is what she wanted. And Hudson was pretty nice and quiet, which was a vast difference from the fast pace of New York City. But Jenny was a New Yorker through and through and had grown numb to the hustle and bustle. Her mother had told her to give Hudson a chance and she would grow to love it too.

Of course Alison had loved it: she was living the life.

Alison shuffled over and fixed the collar of Jenny's white, silk-chiffon DVF blouse, one of the many purchases made by Alison while they'd spent the summer in Los Angeles. The blouse was tucked into Jenny's favorite pair of skinny, black Seven jeans and on her feet were sky-high, black Fendi booties, making her taller than she already was: and Jenny was remarkably tall. Her long, pale-blonde hair had been pulled up into a high, sleek ponytail and she'd opted for minimal make-up and only some diamond studs in her ears.

She had come to understand that Waverly Preparatory Academy was one of those more progressive private schools where there was no uniform to allow for individualism to thrive.

Jenny's mother picked up the Louis Vuitton-monogrammed backpack from on Jenny's four-poster canopy bed—one of the many amenities in this house—and handed it over to her.

"Waverly Prep is considered one of the best schools in the country, honey," said Alison, leading Jenny through the door, both their heels clicking against the hardwood floors of the too-many-square-feet-for-Jenny-to-count historic Italianate Hudson mansion. "It was a good thing Robert is so good with the Board or you never would have gotten a spot. And especially coming in as a senior. Luckily, a spot opened up. Some kid got expelled or something. Good for you but bad for them."

"Uh-huh," said Jenny noncommittally, as they made their way down the great staircase to the ground floor.

"I made you kids a perfect breakfast," said Alison, connecting elbows with Jenny and leading her further into the cavernous house and to the back, where the grand kitchen was. Jenny never knew her mother to be much of a cook, but Alison had learnt her way around this kitchen since moving to Hudson.

"Good morning, Alison," said Jenny's soon-to-be stepbrother and very current crush, Heath Ferro. He was already at the breakfast bar eating a full plate of eggs, sausages and pancakes, which he intended to wash down with the glass of orange juice next to the plate.

Jenny had only heard about Heath in the years since her mother had started dating his father but it was a whole other thing to meet him. They'd met over this long, Labor Day weekend when he'd gotten back from spending the summer with some friends in Europe, just in time for school on this Tuesday morning.

Heath was unnervingly handsome in a Ralph Lauren model kind of way; and it didn't help that he seemed to like Ralph Lauren either. Almost everything she'd seen him in over the weekend had been Ralph Lauren. Even for this, the first day of school, Heath had thrown on a pair of mint green, Ralph Lauren corduroys, a white Ralph Lauren polo and some suede Ralph Lauren boat shoes. His chestnut brown hair had been slicked back and his intense, ocean-blue eyes were fixed on Jenny as she sat down next to him.

Alison put together a plate for Jenny and she wordlessly ate it while her mother chattered on and on about how excited she was about teaching art at the community center and how happy she was that Jenny was finally giving her a chance to spend time with her before she went off to college.

"Where are you thinking about going?" asked Heath, cutting off Alison.

"I don't know. Somewhere with a good fashion program, I guess," said Jenny. "Maybe RISD? FIDM? Or I was even looking at Central Saint Martins in London. I wouldn't mind that at all."

"Oh," said Heath. "I didn't know you wanted to be a fashion designer."

"I do," said Jenny. "I just haven't been doing a lot of designing, I guess. But I think in this year I'll need to get back to that. I lost myself back in New York."

Alison came over to Jenny's side and played with her daughter's ponytail. Jenny had forgotten that she'd told her mom all about her downward spiral while they had been getting drunk in their hotel room back in LA. It had been sort of a bonding experience for them. Alison had a very hands-off way of parenting, unlike Jenny's dad, Rufus. Alison felt, in a lot of ways, more like a friend than she did a real mom sometimes. She tried to approach Jenny like an adult and not as a little kid. She gave advice but never told Jenny what she had to do.

"Good morning, everyone," said Robert Ferro, strolling into the kitchen decked off in an elegantly tailored, grey Brioni suit. His salt-and-pepper hair was parted at the side. Essentially, Robert was an older version of Heath.

Robert had a big job in technology which he'd explained to Jenny over the summer but which she really didn't understand. Either way, he had made a profit during the recession when everyone had been making a loss. Robert was suave and charming and handsome and he was hopelessly, helplessly in love with Jenny's mother. They'd met at one of her art shows, where he'd proceeded to pretty much buy every piece in an effort to get her attention. And it worked. Now they were engaged and were planning to get married in less than two weeks.

He gave Alison a long, lingering kiss before he turned to the kids.

"Heath, I trust you'll help Jenny get acquainted with Waverly," said Robert, one eyebrow arched in his son's direction.

"Of course, Dad," responded Heath. "She's in good hands."

"Jenny, I suppose you can get a ride with Heath to school," said Robert, looking at Jenny now. "I mean, if you don't want to, I'd understand. I can certainly get you your own car."

"Robbie," said Alison, tucking some of her golden hair behind an ear and then taking her fiancé's hand, "that won't be necessary."

"No it won't," said Heath. "She can always get a ride with me. God knows I have enough space."

"Well if you change your mind," said Robert, with a shrug. "Anyway, my driver's here. So I'm heading into the City. I'll see you later."

He kissed Alison one more time and then left.

"Jenny, we should probably get going too," said Heath, sliding off the bar stool and picking up the leather Marc by Marc Jacobs backpack at his feet. He looked down at the platinum Rolex wrapped around his wrist. "It's getting kind of late."

Jenny was pretty much done with her food so she kissed her mom goodbye and they went out into the driveway, where Heath's black Range Rover was waiting.

"You're going to fit right in at Waverly," said Heath, unlocking the luxury SUV. They both got in and put on their seatbelts. "A little slice like you."

"Like me?" she asked, as he backed out of the driveway. "Why do you say that?"

"You know we follow Gossip Girl out here, right?" he asked, turning down the street. "You Manhattan kids are some kind of crazy. Everybody knows about your rise—and apparent fall—at Constance Billard. Everybody. You're something of a celebrity on campus. Who would have guessed that you'd be my stepsister someday? And Dan Humphrey—the ultimate insider—my stepbrother? It's unreal. Following Gossip Girl is like following a reality show."

Jenny rolled her eyes. She didn't know that Gossip Girl had such a far-reaching audience: all the way Upstate. So she still couldn't get away from her past. Maybe she had been deluding herself anyway because all anyone had to do was a thorough Google search and they'd see every nasty thing she'd ever said or done. Of course, everything published had been by choice since her brother had come up with the idea of Gossip Girl. It was the only way to become relevant.

So she'd brought it on herself.

"So do you have a boyfriend in New York?" asked Heath.

"No," mumbled Jenny. "I've been what you'd call 'unlucky in love' for a while now."

"Right," said Heath, nodding his head. "With Nate and Chuck and that gay boyfriend Asher. You'll find Waverly to be…Anyway, you'll figure it out for yourself. Either way, I got your back. You can hang out with me."

"Thank you," responded Jenny.

They arrived at what Jenny assumed to be the Waverly campus in a couple minutes and parked up in a spot near the entrance. Jenny had never seen a school so big because New York schools tended to be small and private schools, like Constance, even smaller. This one looked like it covered a good bit of space, with buildings scattered throughout, all of which were made of solid red brick.

It looked more like a college campus than a high school.

"Heath!" called a cute guy who was a couple cars away from them, getting out of an old BMW. He waved, locked his car and made his way over to them.

He looked like he was supposed to be a friend of Heath's: he looked like a model out of a J. Crew catalog. He had smoldering, green eyes and jet-black hair that was slicked back a lot like Heath's. He was pretty much wearing the same thing Heath was, except in less look-at-me colors: a navy blue polo, black chinos and some black loafers.

"Oh, I know you!" Jenny suddenly exclaimed, as he got closer to them.

"I know you too," he said, with a slight chuckle.

"You know each other?" asked Heath. "How?"

"I've seen her while I exercise," said the mystery boy. "She was always on your lawn tanning or something. And you know I run every morning and every evening."

"Right," said Heath. "Brandon Buchanan, this is my soon-to-be stepsister Jenny Humphrey. Jenny Humphrey, this is Brandon Buchanan, cross country master of Waverly Prep."

"I knew you looked familiar! Jenny Humphrey! I've been beating myself up for the past three weeks trying to figure out where I know your face from. And now I do. Jenny Humphrey! What are you doing at Waverly Prep?"

"I'm a student," said Jenny. "Here for my senior here."

"Wow," said Brandon. "Well it's nice to meet you, Jenny. And welcome to Waverly."

They started making their way into the campus and bombarding her with questions about what classes she was taking and what sport she was interested in since every student at Waverly Prep was expected to take a sport.

"What?" protested Jenny. "Gym was mandatory at Constance but not necessarily a sport."

"Things are different here," said Heath, in his milky soothing voice. "You have to pick one." He looked her up and down. "Maybe basketball? The girls' team sucks here."

"I don't know," said Jenny. "I guess I'll have to figure it out. I've never been particularly good at any sport."

"Well you'll find your niche here at Waverly," said Heath, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her tight. She could feel her cheeks heating up from blushing.

After a few more minutes of them telling her all about the culture at Waverly, Heath suddenly yelped, "Heads up, Buchanan."

Walking towards them was a beautiful couple.

The girl looked as beautiful as any Victoria's Secret model Jenny had ever seen with her cascades of perfectly voluminous, jet-black hair and she had the most beautiful, long-lashed dark eyes. She was wearing a sleeveless, pink turtleneck that looked perfectly radiant against her caramel skin, a short denim skirt and some black leather boots and a beige Gucci tote perched on the crook of her elbow.

She had her arm wrapped around the waist of a boy who had a full head of burgundy hair parted at the side and he was wearing a yellow, cashmere, V-neck sweater that brought out the gold flecks in his otherwise sky-blue eyes and some blue jeans and black Gucci loafers.

"Hey," said the guy, once they were close enough. He smiled at Heath and Jenny and then a noticeably sad expression crossed his face when his eyes settled on Brandon. "Hey, Bran."

"Heath, Jenny, I'll see you in homeroom," said Brandon, turning on his heels almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth and striding off.

"You'd think he'd be over this by now," said the beautiful girl, flipping some of her hair over her shoulder. "He's had all summer."

"Hi," said Heath. "Jenny, these are my friends: Callie Vernon and our local tennis star, Easy Walsh. He's the next Rafael Nadal."

"I don't know anything about that," said Easy, taking Jenny's hand and pumping it twice before he let it go. "I'm just trying to finish high school first."

"Jenny Humphrey?" murmured Callie. "As in _the _Jenny Humphrey?"

"One in the same," responded Jenny.

"Oh my God! I feel like I'm meeting a celebrity or something," said Callie, letting go of Easy and connecting elbows with Jenny. "You know Serena van der Woodsen and Blair Waldorf? You have to tell me _everything_ about them. Is everything on Gossip Girl true? I'm obsessed with it. I have alerts on my iPhone and everything."

"Hey, guys," said a pretty, copper-haired girl, who approached their group from seemingly out of nowhere. "You should start heading to class. The bell is gonna ring any time now."

"Alright, Brett," said Easy, wrapping his arm around Brett's neck. "We're heading there now."

Brett looked down at the rose gold watch wrapped around her slender wrist. "Come on. We don't want to be late."

"This is Brett Messerschmidt, one of our best lacrosse stars," said Heath.

"Hi," said Brett, playing with her braid.

She was pretty in an almost Audrey Hepburn kind of way: she had big, brown eyes, a long, straight nose and a tiny, cute, little mouth; a long swan-like neck; and a little, tiny waist. And impeccable style that looked like it had been pulled right out of a sixties movie. She was wearing a long-sleeved, velvet minidress with a bateau neckline, black ballet flats and a black beret on her head. Her copper hair was braided and fell all the way down to the end of her back.

"And thanks for waking me up this morning, Callie. It meant a lot to me," said Brett spitefully, leading their group through the campus.

"I went to the gym," said Callie, with a nonchalant shrug of her slender shoulders. "Sorry you sleep so deeply that alarms don't work for you like normal people.

Brett looked over her shoulder at Callie, a scowl on her pretty, elfin face, and then entered one of the brick buildings.

"Our homeroom is on the first floor," said Heath, pulling Jenny away from Callie. "Callie, we'll see you around."

"It was nice to meet you, Jenny," said Callie, following Brett and Easy up the staircase. "Hope to see you at lunch."

As Jenny and Heath sat down at the back of the class with Brandon, Heath took Jenny's hand and kissed it ever so slightly.

"See what I told you? You're an instant hit! At least with everyone who matters."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Callie Vernon twirled some of her dark hair around her finger while she absentmindedly listened to her AP French Language and Culture teacher, Monsieur Lamont, give the class an overview of what they were expected to do for that semester. She didn't really care about French. But she cared about Spanish, German, Chinese, Italian and Japanese a whole lot less. And since every Waverly student was expected to do a foreign language while there, she'd opted for French. And it had actually come in somewhat handy since she'd spent a couple weeks in France over the summer break and she was actually able to comfortably converse with native speakers.

She looked over to her left, where Jenny Humphrey was looking positively bored out of her mind at everything Lamont had been saying. Like Callie, Jenny was probably counting the minutes to the lunch break.

"And so," said Lamont in his thick French accent, walking through the aisles of the classroom, the heels of his loafers clicking against the tiles, "I just want to remind you that I expect excellent work from you this year. This is an AP class. And today is the only day you will ever hear me speak English. Also, I'd like you to all pair off. Next week we will have oral presentations."

"On what?" asked Yvonne Stidder, one of the B-Listers at Waverly.

"On a French article, Mademoiselle Stidder," said Lamont. "It can be from anywhere: a magazine, a newspaper. You and your partner will research and present it to me. And it's worth ten percent of your grade. Look at me: practically giving away marks."

Callie rolled her eyes at this remark. Lamont never gave away marks. In fact, none of the teachers at Waverly made getting a good grade in their class easy. Callie herself had been getting an A-minus average, which caused her parents to ask her why she hadn't been getting an A or an A-plus in everything instead. Nothing seemed to ever be good enough for them, she'd come to realize. She didn't know what they were so worried about: she was a shoo-in for Howard, the school almost all of her family had gone to.

The Vernons were a very well established, well respected, African-American family in Georgia. So much so that when her businessman father, Carlton, got into politics, he won the Governorship hands down. Her mother, also from an established, African-American family, had taken her job as First Lady of Georgia quite seriously. Callie wouldn't be surprised if one day the Vernons found themselves in the White House.

"Well go find your partners," said Lamont, sitting down behind his solid, wooden desk.

"Jenny," said Callie, turning her body and crossing her legs. She flipped her hair over her slender shoulder and smiled. "Would you like to be my partner?"

"Of course," said Jenny good-naturedly, cupping her face with her hands as she leaned against her desk. "Sounds fun."

"Any ideas?" asked Callie, tilting her head to one side.

"Well, back at Constance, our French teacher knew that most of us were really into fashion," offered Jenny. "So she used to bring us back issues of _Vogue Paris_. Maybe we could use one of the articles from there."

"Interesting," said Callie, really just interested in spending time with Jenny.

Callie had never pegged herself for one of those people who would be starstruck once they met a celebrity. But there was something thrilling about meeting Jenny. Maybe it was because she'd always been somewhat jealous of the girls from Manhattan who were always featured on Gossip Girl, of which Jenny was one. She'd been to New York City before but she'd never actually met any of the people from Gossip Girl until Jenny, even though she'd forced her mom to take her to the places that they were always 'spotted'.

The bell rang and everybody started pushing out their chairs and chatting amongst themselves.

"We could get back issues in the library later this week," said Callie, picking up her tote from off the floor and placing it on her elbow. "I know they have there."

"Great," said Jenny. "Is the food here any good?"

"For the kind of money tuition is," said Callie, taking Jenny's hand, "it totally is. You should come sit with the rest of us."

Callie led Jenny through the corridor and out into the courtyard. The cafeteria was a good three minute walk away but Callie didn't bother to chat Jenny up too much. Jenny had easily become the most popular girl at Waverly from the moment her homeroom teacher, Mrs. Horniman, introduced her to the class. Everybody in Callie's homeroom got text messages that Jenny Humphrey—_the_ Jenny Humphrey—had transferred to Waverly.

When they got into the cafeteria, a hush fell across the room: everyone was staring at them. Callie had grown pretty much accustomed to it since it had been that way since she'd become friends with Tinsley Carmichael, who had arguably been the most popular girl in Waverly Prep history, on their first day as freshmen.

Things had changed now that Tinsley had been expelled.

"Hey, baby," said Callie's hotter-than-life boyfriend, Easy, who was talking with Alan St. Girard. Alan was sitting down on the bench, dutifully looking up at his guru, Easy. Easy was sitting down on top of their usual table, his feet on the bench, and he ran his fingers through his perfectly messy, red hair. Callie fell into his arms and inhaled his adorable Chanel Bleu, a gift she had gotten him over the summer.

Callie's other friends, Benny Cunningham and Sage Francis, two girls who were always trying to be just like Tinsley, Callie and Brett, were huddled on the other side of the table gossiping as usual.

"How was French?" he asked.

"Not bad. And German?"

"Dunderdorf is the nicest teacher here. Getting an A is going to be a piece of cake."

"Hey, Humphrey," said Heath, appearing from seemingly nowhere. He wrapped his arm around Jenny's waist in a very familiar way. "I was thinking that we should probably go somewhere else for lunch. Off campus, that is."

"Sure," said Jenny, her cheeks becoming noticeably pinker. "That'll be nice."

Callie kissed Jenny on both cheeks—a thing she'd picked up in Europe—and then waved them off. She'd have to warn Jenny about Heath soon enough.

"Hey, guys," said Brett, approaching their group with a bunch of books in her hands. She slammed them down on the table and then put her bag down too. "Are we going in the lunch line?"

"It's already handled," said Alan, tucking some of his too-long, golden hair behind an ear. Like the rest of the boys in their little clique, Alan was dressed in a very preppy L.L. Bean get up. "I sent some of the freshmen to get us lunch."

"Of course you did," said Brett, assuming a seat. "Hey, Callie." She looked over at Callie, who was still enveloped in Easy's arms. "Since when have you two been so close?"

"Since we got together over the summer, Brett," said Callie. "God. Do you have to be so crass about it?"

"Crass? You two are dating?"

"Yes!" yelped Callie.

"I'm sorry," said Brett, with a nonchalant shrug of the shoulders. "I didn't know. You didn't tell me anything. I tried texting you over the summer but I didn't get anything out of you so I didn't know what was going on."

"Yeah," said Callie. "I was busy." She kissed Easy on the lips.

"You guys have no shame," said Brandon, approaching their table. He tossed his backpack on the table and scowled at them both. "I can't believe you have the gall to show your face at our table after what you've done. You're disloyal, Walsh. And you, Callie…I don't even know what to call you."

"I think you called me a slut while we were in Barcelona," said Callie, putting a thinking expression on her face, her finger on her chin.

"Yeah," said Brandon. "I think I did. And I see you haven't changed your ways at all."

"Evidently not," said Callie, one eyebrow arched and her nostrils flaring.

She suddenly felt Easy getting up and slightly pushing her away from him. He took a seat on the bench next to Alan, his eyes averted, unable to look Brandon in the eye anymore.

"Have any of you guys seen Heath?" asked Brandon.

"He took Jenny off campus to get lunch," responded Alan. "I guess we'll see him in an hour."

"I see," said Brandon, in a small voice. He turned away and started heading towards the lunch line.

"Bran, wait," said Easy. "We already ordered your lunch. The freshmen are getting it."

"Thanks, but no thanks," said Brandon, continuing to walk away.

After a moment of silence, Brett suddenly said, "What the hell happened this summer?"

"Shut up, Brett," said Callie, rolling her eyes. "If you must know, Brandon and I broke up over the summer and Easy and I got together."

That wasn't the total truth. In reality, she, Brandon and Easy had been in Barcelona. Brandon had gotten food poisoning and couldn't go clubbing but he'd encouraged them to go without him. One drink had led to another and then they'd found themselves making out in the club. When they'd gotten back to the hotel, Callie found herself following Easy to his room, where they'd proceeded to make love. She never went back to the room she had been sharing with Brandon until morning.

When she went to her room, Brandon had been fast asleep and she woke him up and told him about everything that had happened between her and his best friend. Naturally, he hadn't taken it very well, and immediately made plans to take the next flight out of Spain. Callie and Easy spent their last blissful week of their summer trip to Europe together in Prague before she had to go to Georgia and he had to go to Rhode Island, to spend the last weeks of the summer with their respective families.

"I really should have gone with you guys on that trip, shouldn't I?" whispered Brett. "Seems like I missed a lot."

"Tinsley couldn't come either," mumbled Callie.

"Well…yeah. Makes sense," said Brett, nodding her head. "Anyway, congratulations, I guess."

"Thanks," said Callie and Easy in unison.

"But it seems like you guys really hurt Brandon," said Brett. "Did he give you his blessing?"

"Whatever, Brett," said Callie, sitting down on Easy's lap. "We don't need his blessing. This is true love."

Brett didn't look convinced but she still said, "I suppose it is."

"Hey, has anybody heard from Tinsley all summer?" asked Benny, in her little voice. "I certainly haven't."

"Me either," said Callie. "I don't even know where she's going now. I mean, getting expelled from Waverly is a big thing. I'm not sure if any respectable school is going to have her now."

"Picture this," said Alan. "Tinsley Carmichael at a _public school_."

They all laughed: it was unbelievable.


End file.
